


Catalyst

by Lawl_ya



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Canon Compliant, Day 1, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Laven Week 2017, M/M, Pining, Yullen, and lots of anger, laven, who would have guessed that one huh?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawl_ya/pseuds/Lawl_ya
Summary: It was the one thing that, ultimately, changed the course of both their feelings: Allen's death.





	1. 'Lavi'

**Author's Note:**

> Many regards to my beta [minimumspeed](http://archiveofourown.org/users/minimumspeed)! All these last minute projects … it has to be destiny.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My contribution for Laven Week 2017, Day 1: Ace of Spades. _Jealousy (n.): Feeling fiercely protective of one's rights or possessions; showing an envious resentment of someone or their achievements, possessions, or perceived advantages._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This takes place shortly after they recruited Krory._

Trying to block out the voices across from him, Lavi’s gaze roamed over anyone whose looks dwelled longer than the few seconds of attention justified by the volume of the on-going conversation as they passed their compartment. Not that he really _had_ to keep an eye out for every figure that paused in their immediate vicinity; not when Allen’s healed eye would have revealed any hidden Akuma before it even managed to enter the train.

He got it, really. He just needed an excuse.  
And it worked terribly.

“Let’s see, what’s more? Jeryy makes you anything you like and as much as you want. And his food’s really tasty, too!”  
With a sensation that felt almost violent, Lavi turned to the window instead, eyes itching to linger on Allen’s animated gesturing and the sudden vivacity he radiated. The landscape dragging by arduously didn’t fare any better in distracting him, the knot in his stomach ever present, roiling and coiling as Allen continued to answer any question thrown at him with the patience of a saint, no trace of his rather quiet, reserved self he kept around unfamiliar people.

_He wished the train would speed up a bit, if only so they would rejoin Lenalee and Bookman just a tad sooner. At least Krory could busy himself with them, then._

Lavi started at the petulance of that thought. The childish bite bleeding into it was ridiculous; after all, he wasn’t bothered by Allen _talking_ with Krory. What irritated him was that _Krory_ was keeping the conservation _exclusively_ between him and Allen, not to mention that it didn’t seem like he was planning to stop hogging Allen like that any time soon.  
Of course he understood that he wasn’t Krory’s first choice to discuss certain things – unlike Allen, Lavi had no experience synchronizing with a parasitic Innocence, for example – but that was no reason to not include him altogether, especially when the conversation had already switched to more general topics like how it was to live at the Order.

_As if he wasn’t any fun to talk to._

“ _Lavi!_ ”  
His head whipped around. Allen’s frown matched the exasperation in his eyes and oddly insistent voice perfectly, like it hadn’t been the first time he had been calling his name, but beneath all the indignation, Lavi still thought he could hear a trace of concern.  
“What are you doing, spacing out like that?”  
The grin he plastered on his face came far too easily. “Ah, nothing, nothing. What is it?”

It was alarming how the strange churning of his heart simply vanished into nothingness as he effortlessly fell back into role, wondering idly if he ever really fell out of it.  
Those were _Lavi’s_ feelings, not _his_ , right? After all, it wasn’t as if he and Allen were _really_ friends, even if playing friends with Allen may have been fun – more fun than with anyone else before. But it was just that: _playing_.

None of this was real.

And he kept repeating it in his head, over and over again: It was just a play of pretend.

Kept repeating it when Lenalee returned without Allen, frantic and distraught, and Lavi couldn’t form any other thought but ‘Where is Allen?’  
Kept repeating it when Tim’s recording of what were so very clearly Allen's last moments made him struggle for breath and the only trace they found was blood – so much blood.  
Kept repeating it as pale moonlight fell on the ace of spades in his hand, in the foolish hope that saying it out loud would make it more real, more true: “It was just a play of pretend. A Bookman has no need for a heart.”

He knew it was a lie. Knew misery, had seen it in others his entire life, but he wouldn’t have imagined it _hurting_ so much, and it was getting worse with every word, every breath, every second, every _heartbeat_ like a black hole eating into his lungs so agonizingly slow that it blurred his vision.

_Because for the first time, he felt like he couldn’t possibly stay ‘Lavi’ without ‘Allen’._

So he forced the lightness in his heart to _go away_ , to not fall for the taunts, the false hopes which were meant to hurt, to _break_ , when he heard Allen’s voice amidst the smoke covering the battlefield. Because he couldn’t do this, couldn’t bear it, not even for a moment.

And then, he stood before him.  
Alive, so very much alive and well, and if Kanda hadn’t butted into all that mess sword first, Lavi would have given into the urge to seize him into a crushing hug and bury his face into Allen's shoulder to hide the telltale wetness of his eyes and clasp onto him for dear life.

But as it was, he swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue to never ever do something like that again when Kanda and Allen picked a quarrel at first sight, and said some nonsense about a ‘happy reunion’ as soon as the trembling in both his throat and heart had calmed down somewhat.  
It did nothing to quell the apprehension that settled in his body like a sick feeling to his stomach as he watched them though.

Because he’d never seen this strongheaded, snappy and slightly quick-tempered side of Allen with anyone else. It belonged to _him_ and witnessing it with _Kanda_ left a sour taste of loss in his mouth.

_And he wasn’t up for loosing Allen any time soon.  
_ Not ever again, in fact.


	2. 'Kanda'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Grief (n.): Intense sorrow, especially caused by someone's death._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After an eternity, it's finally here! (Thanks Writer's Block, it was nice to have you ...) I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> _Takes place relatively shortly after Allen lost his Innocence to Tyki._

Kanda’s first impression of Allen Walker hadn’t been a nice one: A scrawny kid with an Innocence that was way too fragile who refused to fight back even while Kanda tried to kill the twat. The beansprout brushed it all off like it had never happened, a smile plastered across his face that was downright infuriating with its forced friendliness.  
An idiot. Not to mention the weird hair.

But then again, Kanda rarely thought nice of people.

It wasn’t the blatant naivety with which the kid stumbled into a century old _war_ while having no reason to, though,  that made his skin crawl and set his innards aflame with an urge to turn violent.

It wasn’t that downright sickening sweet attitude of his, either, although Kanda still went out of his way to claw it off his face, silently wondering why he even bothered with his mask when it was so easily worn thin.

What set his teeth on edge was the shadow of a memory long buried beneath the rabble of his past, and having it resurface felt like throwing up shards of glass.  
Because Allen Walker was a liar, right down to his all-smiles and pleasant façade.

Beneath it, however, he was anything but with a temper rivaling Kanda’s own and guts that bordered on recklessness with that stubborn fervency the kid seemed so prone to. And just for a short moment, as his heart racketed against his ribcage with the promise of a good challenge, Kanda felt that maybe the brat wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

He was wrong, of course.

Because even though the beansprout was shedding tears of utter misery mourning the death of a puppet and its puppeteer, he had also tossed his life onto the battlefield with an ease that left a sharp, pungent taste in Kanda's mouth.

They were destroyers, not saviors. Kanda had learnt that lesson the hard way a long time ago.

And the one thing Allen Walker wanted to destroy the most was himself.

 

* * *

 

Kanda’s grasp around Mugen’s hilt flexed. Eyes unswervingly fixed on the bee-like creature that had sought them out mere hours ago with word of one Cross Marian, his sword responded, a pulse of energy against his palm that seemed to encourage, to reassure while he half-heartedly listened to his master’s conversation with Komui.

He didn’t know what he was more disgusted with; his own Innocence or the creature in front of him.

“—Therefore, I’d like to follow its demand. If Marian really is in Japan as it said, then that might mean a whole lot of trouble for those young exorcists after him as well,” Tiedoll finally concluded, gaze flitting towards the Akuma as if to look for confirmation. In return, it threw him a grin, menacing in nature despite its rather laid-back appearance as it floated in mid-air, two of its four arms crossed behind its head.

‘Modified’, it had called itself.  
An ally.  
Kanda wasn’t fooled. Since the Akuma’s arrival, the air had been permeated with a sense of agitation that made his master’s usually mellow demeanor sharp and grim; an incessant tingle down Kanda’s scalp whenever that silent disapprobation of his fellow general’s methods reminded Kanda of eyes the color of steel, unyielding and blazing with a ferocity kept in rein only by an iron will and lukewarm compassion like a vicious beast behind bars of rust and iron.

Kanda narrowed his eyes. They all knew the risks; knew that nightfall would show whether that thing had spoken the truth or was simply sticking to a new, elaborate plan the Earl of Millennium had come up with.

The sigh Komui tried to stifle clearly reflected in his voice. “If Cross has sent for you, it’s probably with good reason; after all, he’s not one to ask for help easily.” He paused, the prolonged silence heavy with foreboding. “And after everything the Marian Unit went through, it might be best if you joined them, really.”  
“What happened?”  
Even without Marie’s enhanced sense of hearing, Kanda could make out every word coming from the receiver: “They lost a member.”

Another dead body.

The thought felt dull as it crossed Kanda’s mind. In a tiny corner in the back of his head, he reprimanded himself that he should have expected it; that he _did_ expect it, every time someone set out on another mission because this was _war_ and they were _losing_ it.

Happy endings didn’t exist. At least not in their reality.  
He had to grit his teeth against his impending nausea.

They all had tired of the bad news of the past few weeks. And with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Kanda realized that they were talking about Lenalee’s unit.  
But it couldn’t be her, he realized belatedly. If his sister had died, Komui wouldn’t be making this call right now. The relief was short-lived, though.

Because there was a certain idiot deeply connected to Cross Marian in the Order now.

“While attempting to rescue Suman Dark, Allen Walker encountered a Noah. According to Timcanpy’s recordings, the result of this confrontation was the destruction of his Innocence.”

Kanda’s grip around Mugen’s hilt tightened. The metal dug sharply into his palm, to the point that it hurt, but anything was better than the _burning_ in his chest that threatened to burst his ribs open with every heartbeat. So, when the anger came, he welcomed it, let it fester until it tinted the corners of his vision black and nearly overwhelmed him.

“Somebody you know?” the Akuma mocked, that same ever-present grin etched onto its face.

Kanda would have very nearly lashed out at it if Marie hadn’t called his name. Because damn, this was the death of its master’s pupil they were talking about, and shouldn’t it at least feel something – _anything_ – in that man’s stead? But he forced himself to relax his hands, one still clutched around Mugen, the other clenched into a fist, and tried to push down that smoldering feeling inside his lungs that made it a bit hard to breathe.  
“Yuu-kun?” The way his master pronounced his name – not quite careful and not quite reprimanding but with just the right amount of alarm to inquire if necessary – got Kanda’s hackles up, but he squashed the scathing remark on the tip of his tongue.  
“It’s nothing.”

“Uh, scary,” the Akuma teased.

He didn't need to look to know that Marie saw right through him; not when he had to grate his teeth until they hurt to keep himself from snapping. He might have been able to fool Tiedoll, but not Marie; _never_ Marie – not when his heart kept turning his blood into red-hot iron every time Allen Walker crossed his mind.


End file.
